


at one am

by arttemis



Series: things you said [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Late Night Conversations, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Prompt Fill, t rating for swearing, this is like post and pre breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arttemis/pseuds/arttemis
Summary: "It's late," is what Roy answers the burner with. He keeps his voice flat. He doesn’t want Jason to know howrawhe feels. Not yet anyway. Not when he'll fall apart the second all the longing and desperation that surface, without fail, every single time Jason calls make themselves known. If the job doesn't kill him, the loneliness will. Roy’s sure of it.





	at one am

**Author's Note:**

> from [this](https://bagelswrites.tumblr.com/post/123055234702/send-me-a-pairing-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write) prompt list. i think i'm in love with it.
> 
> this was about 300 words in my notebook and somehow ended up at 1000 when i typed it up.

"It's late," is what Roy answers the burner with. He keeps his voice flat. He doesn’t want Jason to know how _raw_ he feels. Not yet anyway. Not when he'll fall apart the second all the longing and desperation that surface, without fail, every single time Jason calls make themselves known. If the job doesn't kill him, the loneliness will. Roy’s sure of it.

“Sorry.” He’s not, Roy reminds himself firmly even as his heart thumps against his ribcage. Flutters and beats on his bones like it longs to rip from his chest and follow the sound of Jason’s voice to whichever shithole he’s spending the night in. Somewhere in Central City, Kory had said with soft eyes. Roy rolls onto his back and tracks the slow movements of the ceiling fan with his eyes to distract himself from the betrayal of it all. He breathes in time with the sweeps of the fan blades. “I just got back.”

Back from An-fucking-tarctica, his mind says and then, we’re in the same time zone for the first time in _weeks_. I’m at most a hundred kilometres from you. Practically breathing the same pollution soaked air. You could come visit. We don’t have to do this over the phone like we’re teenagers again.

“It’s fine.” It’s not. Roy told Jason to stop calling him.

Roy can hear fabric and leather squeaking against each other through the phone. Jason must have just, _just_ got back if he’s still in his gear. He’s probably exhausted. Forgot, maybe, about the fight and how Roy had screamed at him to stay the fuck out of his life and cried while he grabbed the bits and pieces of his life from the Coast City safehouse.

He doesn’t know if that’s good or not. It feels–wasted, Roy supposes, to have a fight and not have the other person involved able to recall it. Flaying yourself for the sake of an argument and not having the scars to prove it. But, there’s the part of him, the not-so-deep, terrified of being left behind part of him that wants to embrace this new potential where Roy didn’t irreversibly change things.

It was easier to ignore the cracks when they didn’t point attention to them. Roy not knowing when to stop drinking and Jason not understanding how to process any kind of emotion that didn't stem from rage was just fine when they treated them like quirks. Of course, Roy ruined that when he raked them both over the coals for Jason’s fuck up.

Roy thinks it over and Jason doesn’t speak. The silence is heavy. Cloying and thick. Roy breathes just to prove to himself he can. That, as much as it feels like he is, he isn’t suffocating under the weight of the quiet. He can hear Jason doing the same on the other end of the line and for a moment it feels like they are in sync once again.

The fan circles above Roy, distracting him and his breathing stutters from the pattern. If he looks hard enough he can see layers of dust sticking to the blades and casting shadows about the room. Lit up by a streetlamp and open blinds.

“I want to,” Jason swallows, the click of it loud enough to be picked up by the mike, “to apologise.”

 _For what?_ Roy almost says. The not-so-deep part of him, now that the possibility of all being forgiven is gone, wants to claw the words out of Jason. Make him apologise, _really_ apologise, strip him of his dignity and hurt him the way Roy hurts.

“I should too,” Roy says and then doesn’t. He shuts his eyes and presses the side of his face into a pillow, shoves down the impulse. He’s not that person anymore. The kind who hurts because he can. He’s too tired to be that person anymore.

“I’m sorry about before,” Jason hesitates on the word _before._ Roy relaxes his face with effort, smooths out his lips from the snarl they pulled themselves into. He can’t even bring himself to say the words. “I should’ve told you what was happening sooner.”

It’s not a great apology. Not even a good one. Roy counts the seconds as they tick by, each one threatening to bring back that oppressive silence. He should hang up.

It’s Jason though and every time Roy sleeps he dreams about his blood splattered across the walls of the Coast City safehouse.

He’s going to hate himself in the morning. When it isn’t one am and he’s not laid awake wondering if he’ll ever hear from Jason again. When he’s not tired, alone and miserable.

Roy swallows back acid and speaks past the bitterness flooding his mouth. _Coward,_ his mind yells and his heart has yet to stop throwing itself against the walls of his chest. “We should talk.” He’s so fucking sick of being alone. “In person.”

He doesn’t think they can fix this. He doesn't think he _wants_ to fix this. Is it even worth it? Can anyone come back from something like this? It seems so big. The kind of thing that tears people apart in real life but only ever behind closed doors. That’s what this feels like. A big secret that’s slowly consuming Roy’s very existence. He’s torn between screaming it for everyone to hear and smothering the words before they can leave his mouth.

Torn is a good way to describe him right now, Roy thinks. Ragged and hurt and divided.

“Okay,” Jason says and his voice is neither happy nor sad. Rather, it’s flat in the same way Roy’s has been. “Get some sleep, yeah? I’ll text you in the morning. I love you.”

The words sound as hollow as the apology.

“Night, Jay,” Roy says and it’s the first time his voice has cracked. He presses end call before Jason can say anything. Roy stares at the timestamp on his phone for too long. The numbers read four minutes forty-one seconds. He shuts his phone off then rolls onto his side to get some sleep.

He’ll deal with it in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted this to not be too unresolved but then i wrote this so!
> 
> i'm on tumblr [here](https://lanternrayner.tumblr.com) i have a wip page if you want to keep track of the works i haven't updated in uhhh ~~at least 5 months~~ a little while. you can send me something from the list above if you'd like!
> 
> hope you enjoyed! lmk what you thought and if you spot any mistakes!


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